Unspoken Rules Should Be Broken
by CelticSass
Summary: Blaise, Hermione, and Draco shared a relationship, now Blaise is dead, and Hermione and Draco are confused as to where they stand with one another.
1. Part One

**Title**: Unspoken Rules Should Be Broken

**Author:** CelticSass

**Rating:** M (This rating is for sexual situations, adult language, and adult themes.)

**Pairing:** D/Hr, Mentions of D/B/Hr

**Disclaimer:** The characters contained in this fanfiction are the sole property of J.K. Rowling her publishers, their publishing houses, and the fine studio of Warner Bros. and subsidiaries. I will in no way sell or reproduce this story for profit. In no way will any funds be made from the writing of this work.

**Warnings: **Character death, angst Not Compatible with DH.

**Summary:** Blaise, Hermione, and Draco shared a relationship, now Blaise is dead, and Hermione and Draco are confused as to where they stand with one another.

**Beta Credits:** ShagMeDraco

**Part One**

It always rained at funerals and today had been no exception. Sheets of water slashed against the windows and lightening flashed outside. The storm showed no signs of relenting in any way and the clouds were only growing darker and thicker.

Peeling off the wet dress, soaked from standing many minutes before an open grave, Hermione Granger looked around the room for what she knew to be the last time. Everything was packed and neatly shrunken to fit in her trunk, the very same trunk she had always carried to and from Hogwarts every year.

Casting a quick drying charm on the black dress and black robes, already lying across the bed, Hermione hurriedly stepped into a pair of simple denims and a pale blue jumper. Not caring if she wore any casual robes or not, she shrunk the now clean and dry dress and black robes, putting both into the trunk before she closed it with a quiet click. Sighing softly, she nodded to herself as though she had to reaffirm her decision.

It wasn't like there was any other way to go about things now. There had been a set of unspoken rules, and now that the status quo had changed it was time to move on. There was nothing to keep her here and though it wasn't easy to admit, Hermione had to be strong and not falter now. Any weakness would be too embarrassing to show. It was best to leave quickly, quietly, and then go mourn her lost love in peace.

Blaise's death wasn't a surprise, but preparing for it over the course of the last month hadn't made it any easier. It only proved that though the war was over, the echoes of the conflict resonated into their daily lives. Four years of time that had passed seemed inconsequential when the effects could still be felt.

Hermione blamed herself really. The very reason Blaise had died was due to a curse intended for her during the final battle. That in itself was enough to make her feel at fault. However, there was also the fact that there had been no initial warning as to how bad the spell had affected him at first. She was the smart one, the observant one. She should have seen this coming and should have noticed it sooner, but she hadn't.

Instead, Hermione had celebrated the end of the war, the fact a good handful of her friends had survived, Harry Potter included, and that she was free to pursue the one wizard who had ever completely loved her without reservation. That was the night she and Blaise had quit hiding their relationship, had quit sneaking off for bittersweet moments, and had quit lying to those around them about their feelings for one another.

There hadn't been much surprise, for the most part, and there had been no major disagreements following the announcement. It hadn't been until the next morning that Blaise's housemate, and longtime friend, Draco, voiced his opinion. It had not been favorable.

Hermione knew that Blaise had maintained a sexual relationship with the fellow Slytherin during their later years of school and at the onset of the war. However, they had amicably, or so Blaise had told her, gone their separate ways when joining the Order three years prior. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

Angry, hurt, and resentful that Blaise had found another love, Draco ranted for quite awhile on all of the reasons why Blaise and Hermione would never thrive as a couple. To this, Blaise calmly replied that he loved Hermione and that was a fact that would not change. He added that he loved Draco as well, but ultimately Draco's past choices had lead them down different paths and Draco's insistence on remaining aloof and unable to acknowledge his feelings forced him to find something more permanent and emotionally fulfilling.

The fight went back and forth for quite a while, Hermione wondering if Draco might convince Blaise of her shortcomings and come out the victor in the end. Blaise refused to leave her or mock her in any way and told Draco that he had a choice. He could prove himself to them both, that he was willing to try and work past his prejudices and learn to share more of himself with others, or he could walk away now and never look back.

Hermione had understood Blaise's meaning even if Draco hadn't at first. He was willing to take him back, but only if he could accept her as well. This had forced Hermione to revaluate her beliefs and own opinions. Was she the type of woman who could share the man she loved? Was she even the type of woman who could find it comfortable to maintain such an unorthodox relationship? Two men and one woman together wasn't typical and logical, practical Hermione wondered if she could look past her own ideals.

Loving Blaise had made her think that she could do anything, that anything was possible though. After some soul searching, and a very bitter row that nearly ended their relationship, Hermione realized that she loved Blaise enough to let him have them both. Draco had been important to him once, obviously still was, and the thought of Blaise happy was all that mattered to Hermione.

It was awkward, beyond hopeless at times, but within the year the three had come to an understanding. Hermione would have been lying if she hadn't admitted there was a certain spark between the two wizards that was arousing and comforting to her all at once. Also, when Draco had stopped scowling at her and sneering at every word she said, she found his traits, both physical and emotional, appealing as well.

Draco was still a spoiled, selfish prat, but there was a small amount of softness to him now. The word Mudblood hadn't passed his lips since joining the Order, but now even the malice was gone from his eyes when Hermione was present. He wasn't as difficult at lending his help as he had been in the beginning, and he was more likely than not to pass up the opportunity to engage in a war of words with Harry or Ron.

Yes, Hermione decided, loving Blaise and having developed a healthy bit of lust for Draco would be enough to sustain the relationship. After all, Blaise was the common denominator in their equation and both Draco and Hermione had come to the agreement early on that they wanted him happy. Blaise could hold them together. It would work.

The common ground that Hermione and Draco shared hadn't been enough, however, to make the first time all three were intimate any less uncomfortable. Draco was fighting his jealousy and Hermione was feeling more than inadequate. Their first time together had not been perfect, but Blaise hadn't seemed to mind. Having clearly enjoyed himself, Blaise smiled with contentment, whispered that they both had made him extremely happy and pulling Hermione between both himself and Draco, promptly fell to sleep.

Hermione was certain neither she nor Draco had slept that night, both trying to keep from touching the other, both trying to keep that fact from Blaise. That particular game continued many nights after that first one until Hermione, afraid Blaise would begin to notice the distance that still remained between his lovers, decided to rely on her Gryffindor courage. When Blaise placed her before him, an arm snaking around her waist to pull her back against his chest, Hermione had impulsively reached to take Draco's hand and draw it close to her chest.

The instant she touched him, she felt Draco stiffen and wondered if she had misjudged her moment to make her move. Then he significantly relaxed, surprising Hermione by moving closer so that even though they did not touch, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. It was as accepting as she would be able to make him at that point, and it was more than enough for her.

Slowly, but surely, they found a better way to coexist. Having learned to keep their tempers in check when Blaise was within hearing distance and to appear friendly when Blaise was near. It wasn't terribly difficult to incorporate a touch here or a kind word there. This tactic wasn't lost on Blaise however, who approached them one night, calling their bluff as it were.

He knew, he had to have known, but Blaise wasn't above playing the innocent to get his way. He also knew that both Hermione and Draco were eager to cater to his whims. This request required them to put aside all indifference. Blaise wanted to watch them, together, without his interference. It was a fantasy that he had waited patiently to enjoy. Also, Hermione suspected Blaise was forcing their hand to see if they would balk at the prospect of anything sexual involving only one another.

Not willing to disappoint Blaise in any way, Hermione accepted the challenge, surprised when Draco said nothing in argument. She was grateful that he would cooperate and not make a fuss, but at the same time, Hermione worried about his motives. Blaise was open and honest, even though he liked to remain quiet and said little. Draco, on the other hand, was vocal and quick to voice his pleasure or displeasure. That in itself had Hermione's senses screaming caution when he did nothing but silently comply.

Hermione was not so much a fool as to think she was anything other than average when it came to her skills in the bedroom. She excelled at many things, but there was a certain amount of self-confidence that was required when mastering the finer arts of maintaining the sexual part of a relationship. With said reservations already plaguing her where Blaise was concerned, the prospect of being faced with Draco on such a level was more frightening than an entire horde of Death Eaters.

Instinct played a major factor in the encounter, Hermione never taking her eyes off Blaise as though he were a safety net. At first she had attempted to pretend it was Blaise who was her solitary lover, but that hadn't been easy to accomplish. As she had admitted to herself before, it was simple to lust after Draco, especially if it was condoned and encouraged by Blaise himself. Therefore, she allowed herself to enjoy the time with Draco, but refused to let herself forget that he too only complied with Blaise's wishes.

There was such contentment and joy as Blaise watched them, his dark eyes sparkling with love and desire as they moved together. That in itself seemed to urge them both to make the most of the experience. They each wanted to heighten the moment for Blaise. They hadn't disappointed him. In fact it was that night that he asked Hermione to marry him and Draco to remain with them as well.

Hermione had accepted Blaise's marriage proposal and they moved into a two bedroom flat, Draco accepting the situation for what it was. Afterward the awkwardness seemed to wane, but Hermione was always certain to remember that Draco only tolerated her for Blaise. If she were to have left the following day, Draco wouldn't have attempted to stop her. More than likely he would have let her have his favorite house elf, Tinkerton, to help her pack and be on her way.

That was the reason Hermione presently had decided to leave with as much grace as was possible. Draco could keep the flat. He had no place else to go and she had Harry and Ginny's until she could find a place of her own. The manor had been lost in the war and both his parents as well as her own. She didn't have the heart to ask him to leave and he didn't appear to be of a mind to either. It was only fair, and that would let him keep his last memories of Blaise. Remaining in the home they had shared would be a parting gift Hermione thought.

Sighing again, reluctant to leave but unable to stay, Hermione smoothed down the duvet on the bed before walking to the door. The room had barely been slept in, all three using the room next to this one, but it was the room she had occupied since returning from St. Mungo's following Blaise's death. Draco hadn't minded obviously, barricading himself inside their once shared room and only appearing to eat and for the funeral that morning.

They hadn't spoken since saying their goodbyes to Blaise, but Hermione knew Draco was aware of her decision. Leaving would suit them both. At least it would have if she hadn't allowed herself to care for him beyond the lust and what she thought Blaise expected of her.

Hermione was not a casual woman and to simply make love to and with both men inevitably led to feelings of more than lust. She had already loved Blaise more than she thought possible, but that love had eventually, and without her knowledge, grown to include Draco as well. This discovery she had made when she spied Draco in the hall at St. Mungo's after Blaise's diagnosis a month prior. Angrily wiping tears from his grey eyes that never fell and pacing with impotent rage, Hermione had felt the overwhelming urge to go to him and share in the grief.

That was part of the unspoken law between them however; nothing beyond what they shared with Blaise was necessary. Blaise was all Hermione or Draco needed and as long as they kept him happy, it was easy to ignore one another on any level but the physical. There wasn't any room for her where Draco was concerned, Hermione was sure, and again she was reminded she was merely tolerated for selfish purposes. With a heavy heart, she had turned and walked away, never seeing Draco glance up at her, a strange emotion clouding his eyes and marring his usually impassive, pale features.

There wasn't anything to do but keep silent about her feelings or face Draco's ridicule for her weakness. He didn't reciprocate, and there had been enough loss for Hermione. Losing Blaise had nearly destroyed her, giving up Draco before he dashed her dreams and shattered what was left of her broken heart would finish her completely.

Stepping out into the sitting room, Hermione saw a small picture placed on the end table at the side of the lounge. Stopping briefly she touched the frame lovingly, watching Blaise smile back and then wink mischievously. A large lump lodged in her throat and Hermione had to turn away. She could leave this picture behind but it would be hard. She had many of her own stuffed away in the trunk and it would be unfair to take away any of Draco's own memories.

With one last perusal of the flat, Hermione started toward the door. There was no way she was in any condition to Floo or Apparate and she intended to take a cab to the other side of London. From there she planned to meet up with Ginny and Harry.

"Not even going to say goodbye?"

Hermione froze but didn't turn around, surprised that Draco had even emerged from his room to see her off. It would be too hard for her to look at him so she focused on the slickly painted door. "I didn't want to bother you, and frankly goodbye seems rather trite doesn't it? Besides, it isn't as if we have anything to say to each other. Blaise is gone, he's not coming back, and no amount of words or ranting will change that."

There was silence that followed her words, and that was her indication to walk out the door. Turning the knob, she heard a muttered curse and the door to the bedroom slam shut. The violence with which he closed the door shook the pictures on the walls and sent the one on the end table falling to the ground. Still not able to look back, Hermione stepped into the hall and began her walk towards the lift her bag over her shoulder with her shrunken trunk inside.

She was gone and without a single word as to why. But, he knew why, and Draco could be mature enough to admit to himself that he simply didn't want to acknowledge the reason out loud. She had loved Blaise and Blaise alone. She had merely tolerated him for Blaise's sake, and now that Blaise was gone there was nothing left for her to do but move on.

That didn't make her decision to do so any less painful or easier to deal with. He hated her for leaving, for simply walking away without a backward glance. Three years! That was how long it had been since he had gained Blaise's trust and been allowed to join him and Hermione. Had she not felt anything in that time?

Apparently not or she wouldn't have left. There was the unspoken agreement between them. They were never to worry Blaise or make him question their commitment to him or their strange, but satisfying, relationship. That was why she hadn't thought any words were necessary now. Even after sharing a bed, a lover, and numerous other experiences, it still came down to it that she had only accepted him because Blaise had wished it.

Hermione Granger-Zabini was a bloody bitch, and Draco had every intention of telling her so, until he'd heard how hollow and broken her voice had sounded as she left. They were both still grieving, Hermione probably even more since he knew Blaise had been her first in nearly everything imaginable. There was plenty of time to make her miserable for leaving him, Draco decided, but today simply wasn't the day to do it.

Instead, Draco went over in his mind all of the times he could have sworn Hermione was starting to forget her obligation to Blaise and actually see him as something more. He knew that she had found him attractive, desirable. That much was plainly obvious whenever Blaise had asked them to fuck for him. Not a strange request per se, but strange for Blaise. Hermione never seemed to question Blaise's tendencies, but Draco knew that sitting by and letting them play without him wasn't something Blaise truly enjoyed.

When Blaise had finally convinced Draco and Snape to come out of hiding after the Dumbledore and Hogwarts debacle, Draco had learned of Blaise's attraction to Hermione. Still continuing to shag at every opportunity themselves, Blaise had made it apparent that he intended to have the female counterpart of "The Golden Trio."

At first Draco had assumed it was a phase, a whim, but learned over the weeks that Blaise was most serious. He began to pursue her relentless, but stealthily, so that even Potter and Weasley were unable to decipher his true intent. It was after Blaise admitted to cornering the Gryffindor and forcing her to admit her own attraction that Draco realized how truly determined Blaise was.

That, among other things, led to their row that ended what little relationship they had salvaged after the attack on Hogwarts. Blaise couldn't tolerate Draco's misguided ideals and selfish ways, and he refused to subject Hermione to Draco's viper's tongue. Blaise informed Draco that he couldn't continue anything resembling a connection to someone intent on hiding his feelings and using anger as a shield when there was a beautiful, caring witch more than willing and eager to love him and fight for him.

Draco had offered to curb his more prejudiced tendencies, not completely unaware that sharing Hermione wasn't totally offensive. Whether he would admit it to Blaise or not, Hermione was stunning in her own way. Her hair would never really be tamed and her opinions were always blunt, if not hurtful at times, but there was a softness about her as well. Her brown eyes could see through you, almost read your soul, and her full pink lips could offer a gentle smile when it was needed.

Blaise refused the offer, telling Draco he knew that he wasn't ready to have any lasting bonds with anyone and that maybe someday they could work things out. Not one for begging, Draco only could remember snarling that Blaise deserved a Mudblood whore and Hermione was the perfect one to serve him, a Blood Traitor.

That was the last time they had spoken privately, only responding when spoken to during missions or briefings afterward. However, despite his anger at Blaise, and his disappointment that neither Blaise nor Hermione saw him as worthy enough to share themselves with, Draco never revealed their secret. There was a certain amount of loyalty Draco had still felt toward Blaise, and he fully intended to someday join them, no matter how much convincing they required.

When the war was over, Blaise recovered from what they thought then was a minor curse, and he and Hermione had announced their relationship to the Order. Draco had chosen then to make his move. In true fashion, he hadn't made the best of approaches, immediately starting a fight rather than calmly congratulating them. He was jealous of their love, that Hermione had Blaise, and that Blaise had Hermione. Draco was virtually alone in the world and they were the perfect compliment to one another. Their happiness had immediately set his nerves on edge as it also drew him to them, wanting to join them, wanting to see the love that shined in their eyes for one another shine for him as well.

When Blaise had looked past his spoiled tantrum and still offered him a chance to prove himself, Draco was more than surprised. He was more determined however to get what he wanted. If that meant forcing himself to keep certain comments to himself, and putting aside hurt feelings, so be it. There was more at stake than his pride, and it wasn't as though pride had taken him very far in the past. Pride after all was the very reason his parents had supported Voldemort and were now dead as a result.

Draco wasn't going to delude himself that Hermione was going to easily accept Blaise's proposition. Yet, it wasn't long before the three of them were on their way to building a life together. It was uncomfortable in the beginning, but Draco was only thankful to have found a place to stay, a place where he could belong.

The main struggle came in remaining aloof from Hermione and appeasing Blaise all at once. If Hermione truly didn't want him, but ignored her dislike for Blaise, Draco wasn't about to admit that he had been slowly beginning to feel anything other than passing lust for her. Honestly, since joining the ranks of the Order she had began to appeal to him, and now that she was near and at hand, he resigned himself to be content with the minimal contact.

Blaise, however, pushed the envelope, and Draco could never remember feeling so ill at ease in life as when he and Hermione performed for their lover. She hadn't looked at him once, not even when he touched her as he had seen Blaise do numerous times. She had watched their dark lover, eyes transfixed on his form, probably trying to ignore who actually held her, who was sinking deeper into her body.

Yet, after that first encounter, Hermione became more of a mystery to him. She began to genuinely go out of her way to offer kind words, or a smile. In fact after a few more nights of attempting to please Blaise while he watched them from the far side of the room, she had quit focusing on Blaise and had given her attention to Draco.

The first time she had looked him in the eyes as he thrust inside her had been the moment he knew that she had become as important to him as Blaise. He loved her, despite her blood, her temper, and her choice of friends. However, he also recognized that she belonged to Blaise, and though he had consented to share her and Hermione was now eagerly sharing herself, it was, and always would be, Blaise who mattered and no one else.

Bitter at times, and melancholy at others, Draco refused to admit to such feelings when he was certain Hermione would only scoff at him. She would sweetly, but in that maddening, condescending way of hers, tell him how they weren't meant to have feelings for one another and then chastise him for overstepping the unseen boundaries. Again, he told himself that it was better to keep such thoughts from being known and focused on proving daily that he was indeed in love with Blaise and worthy of his affections.

Somehow, though, he had expected Hermione to admit to something other than casual lust after Blaise's diagnosis. For Merlin's sake, she had vocally defended both him and Blaise to Weasley on numerous occasions. She had even banned said Weasley from the wedding ceremony and the commitment ceremony afterward. The wizarding world wasn't ready for polygamy, so the three of them had held another rite, which Draco was exceedingly glad Weasley had been absent from. It hadn't bound them together magically, but it was more or less something that symbolized their dedication to each other.

No change in Hermione's outward temperament came however. In fact, she threw herself into research, determined to find a cure. She was all about Blaise and saving him. There was no time to prepare for the inevitable or to seek and offer comfort. Draco had been sure she would have been forced to admit to a certain weakness, at the very least admit she had become used to him and reach out.

Hermione had done nothing but guard herself further, and so today when she walked away, no words of farewell or intent, he hadn't been surprised. Draco had figured she would try to leave, to run away from the place she had shared with Blaise and attempt to heal. He just hadn't been prepared for how painful her departure would be.

She had slept in the other unused bedroom since Blaise's death, and that too forced Draco to realize that there was never anything truly between the two of them and never would be. That first night he had been tempted to slip into the bed beside her while she slept. Somehow it was always easier at night to make strange confessions, and if he hadn't remembered how distant she had been upon returning home, he would have done anything to force her hand.

Raising weary eyes and running a hand through his white blond hair, Draco decided a long hot shower would be the way to start the evening. It would be the first of many that he would spend alone and he wanted to be relaxed and calm. He doubted he would sleep much, and there was the business of finding another flat mate. He didn't need the help financially, but he did need the companionship. Damn Granger anyhow. Leaving without saying goodbye, not loving him despite their intimate past, that was enough to make him hate her, but he'd have to stop wishing she would come back to him first.

Outside, fighting through the rain and wind, a small, but determined, owl landed precariously on the window ledge. Unable to rouse anyone after repeated attempts at pecking through the glass, the tenacious creature worked the post off its leg and slipped it through the small crack at the bottom of the sill. Peering inside to see that the post had landed safely, the snowy owl flapped its white wings and then took off again, rain soon making it invisible to the naked eye as it drifted farther away.


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer:** The characters contained in this fanfiction are the sole property of J.K. Rowling her publishers, their publishing houses, and the fine studio of Warner Bros. and subsidiaries. I will in no way sell or reproduce this story for profit. In no way will any funds be made from the writing of this work.

**Part 2**

"I thought you said the job would put you in a better mood?" Ron Weasley asked when faced with an irate Hermione. She had only been working for his brothers, managing their finances and appearance schedules, for a little over a week. Both twins were on the verge of driving her daft.

"Ronald," Hermione began in that prissy, motherly tone, "Your brothers have missed two major engagements in the past two days, and someone seems to think that the stash of funds used for emergency expenses should also be used to suddenly fund an impromptu date with a blonde and curvy witch. Do not get me started on poor Molly's invitations for Sunday supper being turned down in favor of formulating some rather vulgar adult potion, the effects of which I don't plan on discovering."

"You could just quit. In fact, that's what they're probably trying to accomplish. You know this job is beneath you, and if Mum hadn't nearly hexed their ears into some sort of sprouting shrubbery, they wouldn't have even asked you to take the position," Ron informed her, wincing when she bared down so hard that the tip of her quill snapped from the force. _Probably found the bill for George's last weekend in Diagon Alley, and the one that incriminated him as a willing participant in a clandestine wizard's meeting in Knockturn Alley as well_, Ron thought.

"Two hundred galleons for a meal!" Hermione squeaked with more than palpable ire. "Merlin, but even Malfoy wouldn't spend that much when Blaise and I…" She suddenly stopped and shook her head. Repairing the quill quietly, she fervently hoped that Ron would let the slip go by. She was disappointed.

"I thought you'd decided not to mention Malfoy again, Hermione," Ron said a bit defensively.

It wasn't bloody fair after all. Following Blaise's death, which Ron was deeply sorry for as it had nearly destroyed Hermione, he thought the nonsense of living with two wizards was out of her system. She'd left Malfoy after the funeral, and she rarely spoke of him. He'd never truly thought they were more than what they appeared to be, two people who loved Blaise, loved him together, shagged him together, and tolerated each other's existence.

"Ron, that part of my life is hard to come to terms with and your constant reminders that you found my decisions during that time not to your liking don't need to be brought up. I left him, Ron, what more do you want me to do? Perhaps I could put a story in the _Prophet_ about how dreadful I think he is, how much I hate him, and how terribly glad I am to be rid of him. Would that appease you, Ronald?" Hermione snapped, brown eyes blazing with anger and resentment.

"No, but I never understood why you had to let Blaise have his way and keep Malfoy too," Ron snarled back. "I've walked on thin ice around you for months now. 'Don't say this, and don't say that,' Ginny and Harry tell me. Bloody hell, even my own mum warns me not to upset you, and I know she frowned on that situation of yours. Two wizards Hermione, two! Didn't you expect people to question your judgment and be a bit worried about your lack of morals?"

"Oh, Ronnekins," Fred called from the doorway, an obvious rebuke in his tone. "Mum just owled and wants you to stop by and pick up that Cannon's shirt she mended. Also told you to stop playing in the off season wearing part of your uniform."

"I'll go get it later," Ron huffed, not turning to acknowledge his brother.

Hermione sighed again, but was grateful for the interruption. "You'll find _your_ ears sprouting shrubs if you don't go and get your shirt," Hermione warned Ron while shuffling through some more papers.

"Listen to her little brother," Fred said with a sharp nod of his head. "She's got that tone about her now and she's right. Mum's looking for an excuse to get a good hold of you lately. Since Bill and Fleur moved back to Egypt, Mum's restless for lack of grandchildren to smother and take care of."

"Oh come off it, both of you," Ron snapped, whirling on his elder brother. "You're just trying to change the subject so poor, delicate Hermione doesn't have to hear what an immoral and irrational decision she made by letting Blaise have his way all those years."

"Ron," Fred said then, his tone not one he employed often, if ever. "Let it go. Mum's waiting and dredging up history isn't going to change anything."

"No, it's fine Fred. Let Ron spew whatever he likes. He's entitled to his opinion and I'm entitled to mine. I was happy, Blaise was happy, and for as much as I could tell, so was Malfoy. It worked for us, and for whoever else didn't understand, well they can bloody well go to hell as far as I'm concerned," Hermione finished with a pointed glare at Ron before clicking her tongue and continuing with her work.

"It's fucking ridiculous that I have to keep my mouth shut, but she was the one living with two different wizards, shagging them, and no one dares to bat an eye," Ron snapped and pushed away from the table, disturbing some of Hermione's parchment.

Ron didn't wait for anyone to reply to his last comment and, with a loud angry crack, Apparated, hopefully to the Burrow. Fred didn't want to have to get another Floo from his Mum about his ickle baby brother. Said Floo would lead to his doting Mum asking about his own whereabouts, and he'd rather have her keeping her up with Ron instead.

"He's never going to get over it, is he?" Hermione asked sadly.

"I don't know," Fred answered with a sigh. "Hermione, he was pretty devastated when he found out about you and Blaise to begin with, then you threw Malfoy into the mix, and you know how he feels about Malfoy," Fred said meaningfully.

"I know he's your brother Fred, and I also know that Ron suddenly decided that maybe he wanted more than friendship the moment he found out that I wanted Blaise," Hermione began wearily, "But it doesn't give him the right to keep throwing it in my face. I'm not sorry I married Blaise."

"Are you sorry you let him have Malfoy too?" Fred asked quietly.

Hermione didn't answer for a very long moment, then slowly shook her head. "No, I'm not. Fred, Malfoy's not like he was, but that's neither here nor there"

"Do you miss Malfoy?" Fred inquired curiously. He honestly hoped the answer would be no. It would work more in Ron's favor in the long run. He did, however, have the suspicion that Hermione was pining for Malfoy as much as she was for her dead husband.

She was silent for a long moment, deciding whether or not she'd prefer to lie, then her shoulders dropped and she couldn't meet Fred's eyes. "Yes, Fred, I do. I suppose that makes me some sort of traitor, but I can't help how I feel."

"If he'd asked, you would've stayed wouldn't you?" Fred pressed quietly. Bugger it all. He was hoping Hermione would immediately throw up her hackles and rant about the pointy faced tosser. The girl was in love with the pureblooded prat though, and Fred suspected that was what really had Ron's trousers good and twisted.

"He wouldn't have asked, so that question isn't relevant," Hermione said hastily, shuffling her papers together. "I haven't heard anything from him in over three months, so that pretty much sums up his feelings on the matter.

"That would be a yes," Fred muttered under his breath, but Hermione heard him all the same. When she peered back at him through narrowed eyes, Fred smiled carelessly and clicked his tongue at her. "You can really be a silly girl when you want to be, Granger. If you'd given Malfoy any kind of incentive, he'd have begged you to stay, more than likely crawled on his knobby knees. Guess you're as much of a coward as he's always been though."

Hermione's eyes flashed and she stood up suddenly, knocking her chair back with great force. "I've always considered you family, Fred, so that's why I'm giving you fair warning that I plan to hex your freckled arse so painfully that St. Mungo's will be hard pressed to sort you out again in a week."

"Tell him, Granger," Fred said without even batting an eye. Hermione could be rather intimidating, but he was a harmless bloke and she knew that. She'd never really followed through on any of her threats where he and George were concerned. The girl had a soft spot for them, he was sure of it.

"It's over Fred. Malfoy's moved on, Blaise is dead, and the arrangement doesn't apply anymore," Hermione explained stiffly.

"Oh, come off it, Hermione," Fred snapped at her, wondering why he was trying to get her to admit to something that admittedly had his skin crawling and him questioning her sanity. Then again, love wasn't something that was easily explained. He still wasn't sure why anyone, especially a sweet and very impressionable Gabrielle Delacour, had found his brother Percy intriguing. If possible, that pairing had him shivering in disgust more than the thought of Hermione and Malfoy.

"Drop it, Fred," Hermione snapped back.

"Owl the sneaky wanker and tell him. I'm sick of watching you mope and snarl all day long. If George and I wanted another woman monitoring our every move and having an opinion on the way we live our lives, we'd move back in with Mum," Fred shouted irritably.

"Your mum worries about you both, and with good reason. I have a note here for a dinner which…"

"Owl him Hermione. Make him meet you for dinner, or go back to your old flat. Don't make a mistake and never tell him. If he throws it in your face and breaks your heart, you can hex me then," Fred promised. Honesty was something he hated sometimes about being a former Gryffindor. He honestly knew Hermione needed to go back and reconcile with Malfoy, but Fred couldn't help wishing that Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy hadn't thrown their lot in with the Order. It would have saved all of them a lot of hassle, truth be told.

Again, Hermione fell silent. After a few moments she looked back at Fred, tears clinging to her dark lashes. "You promise? I mean a really, worthwhile hex mind you. Nothing too juvenile, but I want you to feel it for awhile afterwards."

"Whatever that creative and over analytical mind of yours can manage luv," Fred assured her gently.

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Draco fumbled nervously with his wand, twirling it between his fingers. Frowning at his anxious behavior, he immediately pocketed the slender piece of wood and continued to watch the entrance of The Leaky Cauldron. There wasn't anything to be concerned about really. After all, Granger had finally answered one of his owls and that was promising.

After receiving Blaise's posthumous owl from his barrister, Draco had decided to quit hiding behind his pride and simply tell Hermione how he felt. When his first owl was returned three months prior, he'd not been surprised. Hermione had no reason to believe him, even though he all but spelled out the words for her. Silly bint would eventually understand though, or so he thought after three more owls. Each was returned. Finally, this last time he put into words his feelings. There was nothing obtuse about his post. He told her he wanted her to come home and that he loved her. Of course, when he received a reply with an invitation to meet her at the Leaky Cauldron, that was proof of his progress.

The door opened and a witch came through. Draco's eyes leapt to the spot, but his anticipation immediately was replaced with a sinking feeling of dread. Ginny Weasley-Potter was walking toward him, not Hermione. Hermione had promised to meet him and instead she must have sent Potter's She-Weasel in her place.

Ginny didn't bother to sit, and she looked down her nose at Draco haughtily. She was entitled, or so she told herself. Malfoy had made remarks about her family for years, and now that he was the one having to rebuild his family name, and being shunned in certain circles, Ginny found it rather gratifying. Not as gratifying, however, as when she would tell him that Hermione wanted nothing to do with him.

Her brother was in love with Hermione and Ron deserved his happiness too. Hermione had had her chance to play, and now that Blaise was gone, it was Ron's turn to be given a chance. Ginny knew Ron could make Hermione happy, even if Hermione was a little too critical and had developed some snobby ways since her days of living with Zabini and Malfoy. All Ginny had to do was convince Malfoy that Hermione wanted nothing more than to forget that he existed and, when or if Hermione tried to contact him in a weak moment, Draco's pride wouldn't let him respond, and then Hermione would turn to Ron. It was a sound plan and everyone involved won. Everyone except Malfoy who didn't deserve anything other than a prison cell in Azkaban, but that was something else Ginny could work on later.

"Where is she?" Draco ground out. He'd never had any patience for the youngest Weasley. She was entirely too crass and resembled a harpy.

"She sent me to tell you that she doesn't want you to contact her again," Ginny said, flipping her long, red hair over her shoulder. "She would have come herself, but she's rather tired of having to deal with you. The numerous owls that went unanswered should have been a clue, Malfoy. Hermione's moving on, and she's picking up where things left off with Ron. She and my brother are going to be happy together once she quits mourning for Zabini."

Draco was many things, but usually he was a gentleman first and foremost. However, he had never in his life wanted to snap the neck of a witch before. He did want to hurt Ginny, slap her right across her smug, freckled face. She had to be lying. "All the same, Weaslette, I'd rather hear this from Hermione herself."

"Stay away from her, Malfoy," Ginny hissed losing what little patience she had come with. "She wants Ron, and they've always been good for each other. If you care about her at all, you'll let her be happy. She's not happy with you, otherwise she wouldn't have left, now would she?"

That was a rather low blow, and it had Draco gripping his wand tightly in his robes. It would mean a lengthy stay in Azkaban, but right now, the fantasy of having Ginny Potter crouching on the floor in pain was a very comforting sight. "I think you've said enough, _Ginerva_," Draco snarled at her, the familiar sneer twisting his lips. "Now, scamper back to your brood like a good weasel."

Ginny had her wand out in the next moment, the tip pointed squarely at Malfoy's nose. "A horde of bats is nothing compared to what I can do to you now. Leave my family alone!"

"Hermione is a big girl," Draco said with a shrug and pushed Ginny's wand out of his face. "That's why I'm still going to have to wait and hear her version. I'll be sending more owls. I know you and Potter love the numerous posts, but you'll just have to put up with it until Granger either finds her own flat again or comes to her senses and returns home."

"You're not the lord of the manor anymore, Malfoy, and that never impressed Hermione to begin with," Ginny said as Draco walked away from her casually. She would have said more, but he was already out the door before she could utter another word.

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This was quite possibly the most foolish thing she'd ever tried. Fred had better be ready for his own special hex. Malfoy wouldn't even want to look at her much less appreciate the fact that she was standing, and shivering like a drowned rat, (or ferret, depending on how one looked at it), in front of his flat door.

Hermione heard the whirring of the lift and then the doors opened. Inherently, she knew that Draco would be getting off since she'd stood outside the door for over ten minutes and there had been no answer. Even though he was rude, if he was determined to completely reject her or give her a proper set down, he'd want to do it to her face. He was cruel that way.

At first, he didn't see her, and proceeded to curse at his sodden robes, furiously casting charms to dry and warm himself. Hermione opened her mouth to chastise him for attempting magic in the open with the possibility of Muggles catching him but held her tongue when he finally spied her. There was a moment of surprise and then his face fell into a mask of angry disdain. His eyes narrowed and his frown kept etching deeper, creating very unattractive lines at the edges of his mouth.

"So, Weaslette told you what happened, did she?" Draco asked caustically and pushed past her to open the door.

Hermione took her turn at frowning and followed him into the flat, pausing to inhale sharply at the memories that overwhelmed her. Laying eyes on the sight of the very last time she'd seen Blaise, of the last time she'd walked away from Draco, was more difficult than she would have thought. It took her a few moments to get her bearings again. Too many emotions were fighting for control right now, and Hermione was afraid that sadness and misery would win. Already there were tears burning her eyes and her throat felt deathly tight.

"Say it then, since you obviously are too disgusted to even step inside like a polite guest," Draco snapped peevishly at her.

Hermione shook her head and saw him slinging his robes over the back of the lounge and running a hand through his damp hair. "Malfoy, what are you on about?"

"Ginerva's visit to the Leaky Cauldron. I suppose, though, since you're a Mudblood, that even the most common dictates of etiquette escape you. You sent me an invitation and then you sent Potter's She-Weasel to speak your piece," Draco spat back at her. Merlin, he wanted to shake her, watch her teeth rattle, the teeth he had fixed for her. Ungrateful bitch.

Everything went red for Hermione, and she had crossed the small distance between Malfoy and herself, hand raised before she knew what she was about. The sharp crack of her palm against his cheek resounded through the quiet room. There was a large, red imprint left behind, and Hermione whimpered at the damage done. Still, he'd deserved it. That awful name had always hurt her, even more so now coming from him since she loved him. She wanted to hate him, but couldn't. She hated herself for that weakness instead.

"Seems we haven't moved on at all does it, Granger," Draco said with a baiting tone.

"I don't know what you're sniping about at all, Malfoy. I don't know when or why you saw Ginny, and I don't know what makes you think you have any right to say that to me. You know better," Hermione shouted. It was all too much, the memories of Blaise, Malfoy's obvious return to utter dislike and prejudiced ideals. Damn Fred Weasley and his pep talks. She was going to make him walk funny for a full month, complete with boils, and a rash, not to mention…

"Quit playing dumb, Granger," Malfoy sneered at her. "That mind of yours is the only thing attractive about you as it is." That ought to rub salt in any wounds. Draco thought he might be going a bit too far. Actually, he'd gone too far when he chose to use _that_ word. He knew she would rather be physically attacked than to hear that specific word. Then again, she was always self-conscious about her appearance and the telltale sign of her bottom lip quivering somewhat was proof that he had nearly dealt a deathblow with his last insult.

"You're a bastard, Malfoy," Hermione whispered, unable to form a more coherent retort. "You… You deserve, Merlin, just… I wish you'd died instead of Blaise!"

She wasn't sorry; at least she wasn't going to let him know that she was. There was pain blazing brightly in his grey eyes, and his face paled considerably. It served him right, however. Hermione knew she wasn't beautiful, but to have him so coldly let her know that he thought she was just as ugly as she'd always felt, that was unforgivable.

"Well, I'm glad to know how you really feel, Granger," Draco said somewhat hoarsely. "Wish you'd been more forthcoming before walking out a few months ago. I'd have known not to waste time, parchment, and my owl's health to keep sending you posts."

It was on the tip of her tongue, an apology, a denial. The truth was, she didn't wish it was him. She hadn't wanted to lose either one of them, and now she'd lost both. Hermione bit her lip harshly and her hands began to shake, itching for her to wring them. Then it finally penetrated her brain what Malfoy had said. Owl posts? "Malfoy, I haven't gotten any posts from you since I walked out that door three months ago. Save your precious breath and quit lying."

"You little bitch!" he ground out and stalked over to grab her by the shoulders. "You got those letters, you chose to ignore them, and then you sent Mrs. Potter to, not so politely, tell me to fuck off. Now you're here in person to inform me that you'd rather have buried me instead of Blaise. What am I missing here, Granger?"

"I never saw one post, I would never send Ginny to fight my battles, and…" Hermione fell silent. She should have never listened to Fred, and she should never have wished Draco dead.

Draco dug his fingers into her shoulders, her flesh probably bruising beneath his grip. He immediately released her. The thought of her soft, golden skin swelling and bruising because of him was nauseating. Her mind was attractive, her body was beautiful, whether she chose to recognize the fact or not.

Hermione wouldn't look at him and he couldn't blame her. Something was starting to make sense, and it all went back to one Ginny Potter. Hermione had never seen an owl post from him because, more than likely, Ginny had intercepted them and in her quest to bring Hermione and her brother together, had taken it upon herself to meet him today. Like always, he'd spoke first and thought later. Yet, he still could hear the words echoing in his mind, _"I wish you'd died instead of Blaise."_

Stepping away, Draco reached into his robes and pulled out a worn and wrinkled piece of parchment. He gently laid it on the table next to the lounge and slowly walked past Hermione. Pausing at the door, he looked back at her, watching her picking up the letter he'd left behind.

"He wrote it before he died," Draco whispered. "He wanted us to read it together, but obviously that wasn't possible, so at least you can read it now."

Draco closed the door behind him, not seeing Hermione quietly sit and curl up on the lounge. Leaning back he sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and then pushed off the wall to walk back to the lift. He doubted she'd be there when he came back, but at least she would know what Blaise had wanted to say in the end. It would be the final bit of closure for them both.


	3. Part Three

**Disclaimer:** The characters contained in this fanfiction are the sole property of J.K. Rowling her publishers, their publishing houses, and the fine studio of Warner Bros. and subsidiaries. I will in no way sell or reproduce this story for profit. In no way will any funds be made from the writing of this work.

**Beta Credits:** ShagMeDraco

**Part 3**

He had known since three days after his initial recovery from the curse or so his letter said. Hermione lay curled tightly into a ball on the lounge, Blaise's letter to both her and Draco having fallen to the floor. He had known, and that realization kept playing over and over again in her mind.

Everything made sense. Blaise had wanted to leave them both knowing they had one another, except he had forgotten to take into account their very volatile past and their stubbornness. Still, Blaise had done everything in his power to bring them together, as he knew all along that he wouldn't be there for them in the long run.

The constant attempts to push them to be intimate one on one, the very basis of their relationship to begin with, had been a calculated move on Blaise's part. Hermione wasn't surprised, since he had been a Slytherin, but she was thoroughly livid that he hadn't confided in them that he was dying. There might have been something else they could have done or something that could have prolonged his life.

Hermione knew Blaise well enough, though, that his reasoning was probably to protect all three of them. Blaise hadn't wanted to admit to his mortality, Draco had already lost so much and wouldn't have handled the news well, and she, waiting years for the curse to run it's course, wouldn't have enjoyed their time together. She would have driven herself to find a cure. It had been a difficult but correct decision. That didn't make Hermione's grief any easier to bear.

How had he gone on, day in and day out, knowing each one could be his last? Hermione couldn't imagine how Blaise had managed to hide his illness from them for so long. It wasn't fair! He shouldn't have had to die. It should have been her. "_It should have been me!"_

She hadn't realized she said the last part out loud until her voice startled her. Shaking herself a bit, Hermione tried to sit up but found she was very unsteady. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she walked to the loo and splashed cool water on her face. She started to walk back to the lounge when the open bedroom door caught her eye. On impulse, she walked in.

Everything was as she had left it. There wasn't a pictured moved, and even her bookcase was still empty. Draco hadn't changed a thing. The sheets were still silk and a light hue of blue, the nightstands still had no lamps on them only candles, since Draco considered lamps to be far too Muggle. It made her nostalgic and homesick. Hermione had to bite back a sob as she realized this wasn't her home anymore.

She was about to walk away when a stack of letters caught her eye. Shoved a little behind a photograph of Blaise receiving his Order of Merlin were numerous folded pieces of parchment. Hermione, curious by nature, snatched them up and began thumbing through them. They were all addressed to her and she had never seen a one of them. Judging by their worn appearance, they had at one time been attached to an owl. Draco hadn't lied, but someone had been.

Ginny. Hermione sighed with a great deal of frustration. Ginny hadn't been very subtle the last few weeks pushing Hermione about possibly seeing if there was a spark with Ron. She'd been at Hermione especially the last Sunday dinner at the Burrow. Ginny was convinced that Hermione was better off with Ron and that her relationship with Blaise and Draco had been a phase. Ginny thought it was time for her to grow out of it and move on with her life, preferably move on with Ron.

Hermione skimmed each letter, discovering that they were stacked in the order they had been sent. One letter wasn't forthright, but there was enough to read between the lines. Draco would never give up his pride to ask her to take him back, Hermione was sure, but he obviously had hoped she would return to him. There was more emotion in simple posts about his days and weeks without her than she'd ever seen him display in her presence.

The last letter wasn't as long as the others. In fact, it was only a few lines. Draco's usually aristocratic scrawl was a bit off and not as neat, but Hermione thought she understood why. He wasn't confident in what he was writing, he was afraid of rejection. In those minimal words, Draco spelled out his feelings completely. _I miss, you. I love, you. Come home._

If Hermione hadn't cried so desperately before, she would have completely lost all of her senses then. Austere, selfish, cold as ice Draco Malfoy had sent her that heartfelt declaration and plea. Ginny had intercepted it, and judging from his mood when he returned to the flat, twisted a knife deep into his heart. Ginny was good at things like that. When she wanted something, others didn't matter. Draco was insignificant to her and it was Ron who was her priority. Hermione vowed to reserve Fred's hex for Ginny.

Exhausted from reliving Blaise's death, sick at the knowledge nothing could ever work between herself and Draco, Hermione collapsed onto the bed. Whatever Ginny had said, Draco was erecting the walls around his heart again, and Hermione had a feeling that it would prove impossible to tear down those defenses again. Having a deep sense of regret and feeling defeated in a way she had never thought possible, Hermione slipped under the sheets and buried her face in the pillows. One final time, she thought to herself, before she walked away from this life forever. Oddly, her last thought was that the pillow she once used still smelled like her shampoo. Tinkerton must have been getting lax.

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The flat was dark and quiet when Draco came through the door. Glancing at the lounge, he saw Blaise's letter lying forgotten on the floor. It seemed to confirm his supposition that Hermione was gone. More than likely this time she wouldn't come back. Why should she, after all, since he'd basically resorted to his old pettish ways? There was also, still, a part of him that couldn't help but to keep repeating her wish for him to have died instead of Blaise. Rationally, he knew she had said it in the heat of the moment, her anger and hurt causing her to lash out. However, those were the last words she would ever speak to him, and somewhere there had to be irony considering all of the terrible taunts and insults he once cast in her direction.

Gingerly, he picked up the letter, careful not to get it wet since he had just been walking in sleet, and eventually large flakes of snow, for the past two hours. Draco didn't think he could read the letter again, not after everything that had happened. It would be like losing Blaise once more, and since he could likely call Blaise his first love, that wasn't something he could handle at the moment.

Not caring that his shirt clung to him, and that he was likely freezing his way to hypothermia, Draco didn't even bother to cast a warming charm on himself and let the wet shirt and trousers be. He'd peel them off and leave them for Tinkerton to whisk away from the bath. A long, hot shower would probably be best, then an entire bottle of Firewhiskey. That would make truly adjusting to the loss of both Blaise and Hermione tolerable, possibly.

Muttering to himself, he almost missed noticing the small form curled beneath the sheets. Blinking for several seconds, Draco wondered if the cold had possibly addled his brain, but there she was still. It didn't make any sense that Hermione would have stayed let alone cuddle up in the bed they had shared for years.

Draco kept staring at the unbelievable sight until he also noticed the stack of letters, unbound and opene on the nightstand. She'd read them, and the very last one was still clutched in her hand. For a split second, Draco let the old resentment and anger take hold of him again, his usual defense against possible disappointments. Granger probably pitied him and had waited for him to come back before dealing the final blow.

Shaking his head, Draco even realized how mental that sounded. Granger wouldn't have been that cold or calculating. His fury dissipated in that moment, and he sat on the edge of the bed, not caring that the duvet and sheets were becoming soaked through as well.

Hermione was sleeping so peacefully, her breathing deep and even. He'd forgotten how lovely she looked, lying in their bed, unaware that she was being observed. There had been times, even when Blaise had slept soundly, that Draco hadn't been able to drift off for hours and he had lain there simply watching her. She sometimes snored very softly, which he would never tell her, she was self-conscious enough as it was about her appearance and mannerisms. Still, it was that sound that he found comforting sometimes when he needed to reassured that he wasn't imagining her next to him. He had always taken it for granted that Blaise's affections were real, that he would always comeback to him, but Hermione had been different. It had been soothing to have that small and inconsequential quirk to remind him she was truly there, not a simple hallucination.

Unconsciously, Draco reached out to brush away a few stray curls resting on her cheek. Even sitting a small distance from her, the hint of lavender from her shampoo wafted towards him, and he wondered briefly if she noticed her pillow had been charmed to never lose that particular scent. Hermione would probably think him overly sentimental, and a bit pervy, but he wasn't above admitting to himself that it was comforting to sleep wrapped around a pillow that still carried her scent or even wank while clutching the sham.

The slight motion had been enough to wake Hermione, who opened her eyes slowly, finding Draco in an unguarded moment. He was watching her longingly, every emotion plain and naked upon his face. She couldn't remember ever seeing those cold, grey eyes so expressive or sincere. Maybe there was a small ray of hope. Draco wasn't looking at her with pure hatred but instead wistfully, with a small amount of regret.

They had always said terrible, vile, hurtful things to one another. Hermione knew she was as guilty of it as he was at times. Still, she had dealt the worst blow earlier and now, knowing that Draco wasn't capable of truly hating her as she had feared, was her only chance to redeem herself, to have the courage to put aside her own pride and take the first step. Just because he was gazing at her with yearning didn't mean once he noticed she was awake, he wouldn't retreat behind a frigid mask of indifference.

His fingers trailing down her cheek slowly, Draco was too immersed in memorizing how soft her skin was to immediately detect that Hermione was watching him in return. He froze instantly when he saw her dark eyes staring back at him thoughtfully. This was it, Draco was sure, the last time he would ever be this close to her, the last time she would ever look back at him with anything but anger or regret.

There was a flurry of movement as Hermione pushed herself up, sending the duvet and sheets flying to the side. Throwing aside all fear of rejection, or her own regrets, Hermione took Draco's face between her hands and kissed him, hoping she hadn't misjudged the moment and that he wouldn't push her away. If he had meant anything at all in the letters, it was worth taking the chance.

There was a long moment where Draco didn't respond in any way, and Hermione was sure that she should pull back and accept the obvious rebuff. She had miscalculated the moment, and if she had any hope of salvaging a small amount of her self-respect, Hermione knew she should leave the flat as soon as humanly possible. She had started to retreat when she felt fingers threading through hair tightly, holding in her in place. Draco's lips were suddenly moving beneath her own, and in another instant, he had taken control, deepening the kiss by thrusting his tongue between her lips, earnestly flicking and stroking the interior of her mouth and coaxing her tongue into play as well.

Hermione nearly sighed with relief, but did not have the breath to do so. She was just as insistent in putting as much emotion into their kiss as she possibly could. She didn't think words were necessary at the moment. After all, words had never gotten them very far before, written or otherwise. Right now, Hermione was simply content that he wasn't pushing her away or mocking her for taking the initiative.

Reaching up and twining her own fingers through Draco's silvery blonde hair, Hermione noted how cold and wet the normally vibrant strands were. It was only a momentary recognition, her attention drawn elsewhere to warm palms sliding under her jumper and against her naked skin. The clasp of her bra was hurriedly undone and the jumper was being pushed upwards. When Draco broke the kiss momentarily to tug the garment over her head, Hermione wasted no time in helping, shedding the offending jumper and falling back into the pillows again, impatiently pulling him down atop her.

The stinging coldness of his soaked shirt hardened her nipples instantly, but worried her as well. Roaming her hands over Draco's back, Hermione noted how the material clung to him, most likely chilling him considerably. With a concerned frown, she began to unbutton the wet shirt, looking up at him questioningly. "You weren't out there walking around in the storm for the last few hours, were you?" Hermione asked, afraid that the answer was yes and blaming herself for being the reason.

"Doesn't matter," Draco muttered thickly, shrugging somewhat clumsily out of the sodden piece of clothing.

It didn't matter, nothing did now, except that she was here. Hermione was here with him, not moping with Potter and Weaslette, not lying about with the Weasel, but here where she belonged. It might be too much to hope for that she would consider the flat home again so soon, but Draco wasn't going to think past the moment at hand. Hermione had woken up, found him sitting there gaping at her like a lovesick fool, and instead of immediately fleeing, had kissed him with as much desperation as he had felt thinking she was going to walk away forever.

She was shaking her head at him, her brown eyes troubled. "You shouldn't have been wandering around like that. It's cold and…"

While it was endearing and heartwarming to hear her prattling on and worried for him, Draco didn't want to waste anymore time talking. There was time for that later, time that they needed to take to sort through things more thoroughly. That could definitely wait for later, possibly morning if he could find the stamina.

Hermione didn't protest the kiss that silenced her, having ultimately realized how stupid she had been to ever leave. Frantically, she traced a pattern of kisses along his jaw, around to his left ear, and then across his cheek, unable to convey the sudden burst of emotion overwhelming her. She shivered with delight as Draco's mouth and tongue moved in a slow and maddening path down her neck, to her shoulder and up again until he was nipping gently on her earlobe. It was always the innocent caresses that seemed to arouse her the most.

Shaking from her need, and still some nervousness, Hermione began to work on removing his trousers and her denims. She completely missed slipping the buttons out of the holes on her first two tries, finally calling her wand to her and simply casting a Divesting Charm. She gasped into Draco's mouth as he captured her lips for another frenzied kiss, reveling in the evidence that he wanted her as urgently as she wanted him. Impatiently, she rocked against him, causing him to groan. When she arched her hips again, gripping his shoulders tighter, the almost growl that issued from his lips skipped down her spine and caused the fluttering in her belly to turn into surging waves of anticipation.

Draco dropped his head into the slope of Hermione's shoulder, pleasantly lost in the feel of her small hands moving over his skin. Still, he wasn't in the mood to play and fondle at the moment. He made a mental promise to himself to properly caress and tease her delectable body later, but now he had to be to know that this wasn't some dream.

It struck him suddenly that this was the first time they had ever been intimate with one another for no other reason except they wanted it. There was no Blaise watching, urging them on. This was all about them, and it sobered Draco momentarily, the enormity of that realization. Rising upward, he sat back on his knees looking down at Hermione, trying to memorize this moment just in case this was the only time he would have her to himself.

Her eyes were watching him warily now, but there was still the haze of desire and need present in the dark depths. Her lips were red, swollen, and wet, her hair a wild mass of curls that seemed to spread out in every direction, but still managed to look beautiful to him. The very breasts he had just devoted an almost unforgivably small amount of attention to were full and their rosy peaks jutting forward proudly. They were beckoning for him again, it seemed.

The unreadable expression on Draco's features had Hermione nervously biting her bottom lip. He was staring at her intently, his grey eyes traveling over her body, a certain fire evident in his gaze. With a great effort, she pushed herself up on her elbows, swallowing hard to rid herself of the lump forming in her throat. She was wondering if he was suddenly coming to his senses, suddenly deciding if he didn't want her after all. "Is there something wrong," she asked in a hoarse whisper. "Do you want me to leave?"

That last question had Draco tensing and shaking his head fiercely. Bloody hell, but she was insecure about this all, and he was to blame there. If he hadn't been such a damnable coward, or arrogant arse, Hermione would have no cause to doubt his feelings for her. He wasn't naïve enough to think that just because she had read his letters that she wouldn't still have uncertainties. "If you even think about getting out of this bed, Granger, I'll drag you back and bind you to those posts," he promised.

It wasn't exactly a reassuring answer, but it was one that she would expect from him, so Hermione found she couldn't be offended. Instead, she welcomed Draco back into her arms when he came forward again, lips searching out her own for a gentler kiss. She was panting in Draco's ear when he began to move his lips over her face, the kisses more soft and tender than she had ever thought him capable of. It wasn't enough however and she began to buck frantically against his hand as he began to tease her the soft flesh between her legs.

He couldn't ever remember Hermione being this impatient or this responsive, and he hadn't truly touched her the way she needed, the way he needed. Draco nearly remarked on the fact, but kept silent, not wanting to have her take the comment the wrong way, thinking he was mocking her. It was humbling that he could have this kind of affect on her, and even more gratifying that it was him alone. She wasn't watching Blaise, she wasn't thinking about Blaise either; her eyes were wide and focused solely on him, Draco. Galvanized by that knowledge, Draco swiftly, but as gently as he could manage, plunged forward, groaning in pleasure.

There wasn't anything slow or easy about the rhythm they set and Hermione soon felt the elusive hint of her release, a strangle cry falling from her lips. Lifting her hips to meet his final thrusts, Hermione clutched Draco to her tightly as he muttered a guttural growl before collapsing upon her heavily, his heart hammering in sync with her own. He never wanted to move again, and he honestly had no desire to ever leave the bed or Hermione for that matter.

Despite the slight discomfort his weight caused her, Hermione didn't feel inclined to have Draco roll away from her just yet. Everything had happened so fast, that she still wasn't certain where things stood, if she was welcome to come home after the terrible things she had said. Remembering the defeated look upon Draco's face, her vision blurred from tears that fell easily down her cheeks. How could she have been so cruel? She was supposed to be the logical one, the smart one, the sympathetic and forgiving one. She'd left him without any word as to why and she'd basically wished him dead. Biting back a sob, she shook her head and clung to him even more determinedly.

Feeling the drops of moisture sliding down his shoulder, Draco lifted his head, panicked at the sight of her tears. Was she already regretting waiting for him to come home? Maybe he should have taken more time with her just now, obviously he should have, but she had been as impatient as he was or so it seemed. Maybe he wasn't as good at reading her as he liked to think he was.

"It should have been me," Hermione sobbed, more tears slipping beneath her eyelids.

"What are you talking about," Draco asked, somewhat relieved that she hadn't said anything about being sorry she was lying, naked in bed with him.

"Blaise shouldn't have died, and I didn't mean it when I said I wished you had either. It should have been me!" she asserted fiercely. "He pushed me out of the way that night and took a curse that was meant for me. He'd be alive right now…"

"Don't you ever say that again!" Draco ground out through clenched teeth. "It would have killed him if you had been hit, and… fuck… Granger." This was something Draco hadn't thought on very often, not liking how different everything would have been.

Hermione's death would have been a blow that Blaise wouldn't have recovered from. In that respect, Draco knew he would have lost them both. Hermione might not have been strong enough to recover from the curse's initial affects, and then Blaise would have withdrawn, leaving Draco alone. They would never have had the years together that they did.

"You had Blaise first," Hermione reasoned. "You could have had him all to yourself and…"  
"I wanted you too," Draco interrupted her again. "I worked to have Blaise trust me so I could have the both of you. You know how selfish and spoiled I am."

"He should have told us," Hermione countered, feeling guilty for taking comfort in Draco's confession. It almost seemed unfair for them to by lying together while Blaise lay dead and buried in his family's tomb.

"Maybe," Draco amended, rolling over onto his side and drawing her close. Maybe she'd stay the night if she was drowsy enough to drop off to sleep quickly. "Then again, we'd have been miserable waiting for the inevitable. Blaise did the best thing for us all in the end."

Sucking in a shaky breath, Hermione only nodded, but didn't know if she believed what Draco told her. Blaise had died for her and he had constructed a plan that had both her and Draco learning to coexist, learning to live together for when the time came and they would have to live without him. It was all too much to take in and process, and Hermione simply didn't think she could ever understand how truly selfless and amazing Blaise had been through it all. "He wanted us to have each other," Hermione whispered. "He wanted us to stay together, and we rather stuffed that up didn't we?"

"Is that the only reason you're here now?" Draco asked warily, a distinct undertone of caution evident in his tone.

Hermione tilted her head up to look into his eyes, placing her palm against his cheek. "No, I'm here because…" She suddenly wondered if she had the courage to continue. Actually saying the words made them real and somehow she knew that all of the actions in the world wouldn't be able to convey her true feelings like those three simple words could. Draco deserved to hear them, even if it did take them weeks or months to get back to where they were before.

When she began to falter and fell silent, Draco resigned himself to the possibility she would be leaving and soon. He didn't want her staying if it was just out of some obligation to Blaise. "Don't, Granger. You don't have to say anything. If you truly don't want…"

"I'm here because I love you and even though I know it's too soon, someday I'd like to come home and start over," Hermione said in a rush, dropping her gaze to stare at the base of his throat.

It took a few moments for her words to sink in, but when she began to shift away from him with a sad sigh, Draco tightened his hold and refused to let her go. "Stay," he said simply, dropping random kisses over her forehead, cheeks, and then her lips.

"If you want," Hermione whispered back with relief, returning each kiss that she could. "I'll stay the night."

"No," Draco said, rubbing soothing circles over the smooth skin of her back. "Stay forever."

"If you need time…"

"We've wasted enough," Draco said firmly, taking her chin between his fingers and staring back into her eyes with piercing sincerity. "Tomorrow we're going to Potter's, you're going to pack your things, and you're coming home," he told her with a tone of finality. "And no more balancing journals for those twin tossers either. The Weasleys have had you for years. I don't want to share you anymore."

There was more to that last statement, Hermione knew, than Draco would ever admit. Sharing with Blaise was one thing, sharing with anyone else was absolutely out of the question. She really should have been offended by his authoritative tone, but she was too happy to properly dress him down for ordering her around as though he had the right to do so. Maybe she would give up her job at the twins' shop. They would probably be thrilled to have their financial freedom back.

"You know, it was actually Fred who told me to come and talk to you. Say what you want about him as far as his prankster nature, but he really does have an insight into people that is rather endearing," Hermione said, running a fingertip over the planes of Draco's face as though reacquainting herself with each and every line and slope.

"I mean it, Granger," Draco said, trying to maintain his resolute stance and strict tone. "You're coming home."  
"I want to," she said softly. "But there's so much that we have to talk about, so much that we have to decide, to work through…"

"We will," Draco promised, knowing she was right, but confident for the first time in many years that he would have the sense and drive to actually make anything between them work. "One step at a time. Just come home."

"I didn't mean it before. I couldn't have dealt with losing you either," Hermione apologized again for her terrible words.

"I crossed the line first," Draco told her seriously. "That word, it… I shouldn't have said it and further more I shouldn't have outright lied to you either." At Hermione's confused expression he continued. "I find your mind delightfully attractive, but you, your heart, your body… Granger, you had to know that both Blaise and I have always thought you were beautiful."

She was a grown woman in her mid twenties, but still blushed like a teenager whenever she was complimented. She wanted to argue with him, tell him she knew that he was either being too terribly nice or had gone rather blind, but instead, Hermione couldn't seem to find any words. Not a few hours ago she was certain she'd be going back to Harry and Ginny's alone to nurse a broken heart and to mourn another loss. It was all a bit overwhelming to realize that she was getting a second chance.

"Promise me you'll come home," Draco murmured, taking the opportunity for another kiss. It was all very new and almost frightening having her with him again. He couldn't seem to stop touching her in any way he was able.

"Ginny's going to hex us both," Hermione laughed softly, running her fingers in lazy circles up his spine.

Draco's eyes darkened to a stormy grey. "That conniving little bitch can find herself in one of the circles of hell for all I care."

"I didn't finish," Hermione said pointedly, leaning up to touch her lips to the tip of his nose. "I fully intend to hex her as well. Harry will understand."

"Potter isn't going to like this either," Draco warned her, nuzzling her neck, breathing in the scent of lavender, sweat, and her own unique fragrance.

"Harry will support me. He always has," Hermione assured him.

"I don't want to talk about the Potters, I want you to tell me you're coming home," Draco asked again, determined to get an affirmative answer.

"You'll come with me to get my things?" Hermione asked. "I don't want to go alone. I want them to see that they can't change my mind, that they shouldn't even want to. I want them to see how much we love each other."

He would rather be anywhere other than knocking on Potter's front door, but when Hermione put the request in those words, Draco couldn't find a way to refuse her. "I should have told you sooner, the night we found out that Blaise…"

"I could have said something, but I didn't think you'd want to hear it," Hermione explained idly playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. "I thought you only put up with me for Blaise's sake."

"I wanted you for a long time, since Blaise decided to pursue you, but telling you I loved you, I was certain you'd pat me on the head and tell me how daft I was," Draco told her in between kisses that were trailing from her shoulder to her left breast.

"We're both rather cowardly aren't we?" Hermione mused with a regretful sigh.

"We'll get it right now," Draco said declared firmly. "No more letting Weasleys or Potters interfere, and no more assuming anything about one another."

Hermione nodded her agreement and moved to straddle him, leaning over for a more thorough kiss that became heated very swiftly. Hermione almost purred into Draco's mouth upon noticing how quickly he was ready for her again. Hermione then started to kiss a path from his throat to his chest.

While she was busy swirling her tongue around a rather flat, but firm, nipple, she felt him taking her face in his hands. Compelled to look up, she was momentarily stunned by the depth of emotion in his gaze. "Promise me something else. No matter what we say to one another, no matter how vile or painful, never doubt how much I love you. I won't say it nearly enough, but I'll mean it everyday."

Fresh tears gathered in her eyes and Hermione knew she couldn't find any words to return such a open and poignant declaration. Instead, she placed a lingering kiss on his lips before returning to her previous goal. With each kiss and touch she hoped she conveyed her own feelings. After all, he was right, he wouldn't say it nearly enough, neither of them would, and she would have to remember that actions should always speak louder than words, if you simply listened.


End file.
